“After my mother died, I had to ration everything at home. It is common knowledge that Papa was hopeless in handling finances. I learned the value of every shilling and found ways to earn money. I needed to, or else we would have long been sent to the poorhouse.”
Tristan reached out, taking her smaller hand in his broad and warm one. Cathy could not pull away. She did not want to. It might be difficult for her to admit, but the last few days had been lonely. It was easier to be with Tristan even when they were fighting than not to know what he was thinking at all. The contact he offered now felt like an anchor.
“We can finish the audit together. If you have no issues and would rather work on it on your own, I can show you Baxter Hall’s ledgers. We can work on those together, instead. I would like your opinion on the estate’s current investments.”
“B-but I know you already have someone handling your accounts for you,” she protested weakly.
“That may be true, but I still review everything that he does afterward. I would like to hear the opinion of someone with a true stake in the estate. It is yours, too, after all. You know you can access the funds you need, right?”
“I... I only ask for assistance in providing my sisters a dowry each that they may marry well,” she reminded him. “I am used to not having many luxuries.”
“My wife will have the luxuries she requires, as much as she needs and wants. Most importantly, I want you to be able to do what you are efficient at, if it does not feel like a burden to you.”
“Of course it is not a burden, Your Grace. I have become used to it. It feels like a comfort to me now, to do something I know I amcapable of doing.”
For the next few hours, it was as if the night in his chambers was forgotten. The two worked on balancing the last few numbers in Cathy’s ledger before moving on to the Baxter Hall ledgers. Working together fell into an easy rhythm, and Cathy was grateful for anything that would end this awkwardness.
“Please check these numbers, Cathy,” Tristan requested, as they began cross-referencing. “Do you see the same on your copy?”
He called out the numbers, and Cathy had to say “yes” or “no”. Fortunately, Tristan’s accountant had done a marvelous job, and the accuracy was impeccable. Cathy wondered if she was truly needed until they began discussing the merits of crop rotation and otherconcerns.
“What do you think of crop rotation, Cathy?”
“It is necessary, especially for the land beyond the southern fence. It is fertile now, but that may not be the case a few years from now.”
“I agree,” Tristan said thoughtfully, as he made notes on his leatherbound journal.
“I saw some repair costs for the tenants’ homes. Have we dealt with that already?”
“Yes, we have. However, a visit is long overdue. We need to keep their satisfaction and confidence in the estate.”
“I like that you thought of that,” Cathy approved.“My papa might be a landowner, but he never visited his tenants or asked what they needed.”
It was the unlikeliest of nights. She expected to spend it alone with ink, paper, and numbers. Now, it felt all too cozy with Tristan not only keeping her company but being an active planner in two estates. She peered at him as his face looked sharper in the shadows cast by candlelight.
“My father would be terrified to meet a woman like you,” he commented.
“Why? Is it because I am too tall for a woman?”
Tristan chuckled, leaning back in his chair. It was approaching midnight, and he sounded both amused and tired. He rubbed his eyes.
“Who told you that you were too tall?”
“Everyone mocks me for it. It is unbecoming for a woman.”
“I find that utter nonsense. It is more likely that they are jealous. Well, my father believed that women of thetonshould only concern themselves with the guest list. Women should only be focused on arranging balls and decorating homes.”
“Am I a novelty, then? A horror?” she asked, teasingly. “My own mother was dismayed when she had me learn how to play the piano. I was not as gentle as she would have wished. Numbers were my true calling, not anything that would be alluded to as social graces.”
Tristan’s expression softened. He looked at her as if he were studying her, and it was making her feel self-conscious.
“You have always reminded me that you are pragmatic, Cathy,” he noted. “You trust numbers and rules. They are, after all, reliable.”
She thought there was something a little sad about how he said those words. The simple observation felt like a compliment.
Cathy felt the air grow heavy between them.
“Yes, numbers do not lie. They do not leave in the middle of the night with a mountain of debt to weigh upon those that were abandoned.”